


Not As Smart As You Think You Are

by Icefall



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry Potter & Tom Riddle Attend Hogwarts Together, M/M, POV Tom Riddle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-02-23 12:46:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23844928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icefall/pseuds/Icefall
Summary: Tom Riddle was sitting at his favorite table in the back corner of the Restricted Section, when Harry Potter walked right up to him, dropped into the chair across from him, and glared at him with an expression that said ‘I want to murder you.’“You,” said Harry Potter. “Are not as smart as you think you are.”
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 132
Kudos: 1486
Collections: My Favorite Tom/Harry Fics





	Not As Smart As You Think You Are

Tom Riddle was sitting at his favorite table in the back corner of the Restricted Section, when Harry Potter walked right up to him, dropped into the chair across from him, and glared at him with an expression that said ‘ _I want to murder you_.’

“You,” said Harry Potter. “Are not as smart as you think you are.”

Tom shut his book and looked up. “I’m not?”

“No, you’re not.”

Tom would say that he didn’t know what to make of this conversation, except actually, he did. He’d been waiting for it for a long, long time.

“Sorry, I don’t know what you’re referring to,” said Tom. Being, above all else, a liar.

“No?” said Harry. His voice was light, dangerous. “Then I’m sure it will come as a great shock to you that last night I went out for some fresh air after the Yule Ball and found my girlfriend snogging Viktor Krum.”

Tom winced. “That’s terrible.”

“Is it? You must not really think so, considering you were the one who planned the whole bloody thing.”

“Harry, I know you may be looking for someone to blame–”

Harry flicked his wand. Red light flashed, and a tuft of Tom’s hair drifted down to the library carpet. Tom’s eyes tracked it.

“I could dock points, you know,” said Tom.

“That,” said Harry. “Was the least painful way I could make you shut up. Next time you try to mess with my head–”

“You won’t aim for my hair. Yes, I get it. You’re very threatening.” Tom sighed. “Now if you could recognize that I had no involvement in your romantic drama, and stop blaming me for every misfortune you experience in–”

Another flash of red. Another unsolicited haircut. Tom eyed Harry appraisingly. “Your nonverbal casting has improved.”

“You’re very good at this,” said Harry. “Lying. Making me question my sanity. You should keep working on it. Maybe one day you can become the next Minister. Or the next Gilderoy Lockhart. Who am I to limit you? But mark this. Today, no lie is going to save you. Because I know exactly what you did. I tracked down every loose end in your ridiculously overcomplicated plot, and I unraveled it. Why Hermione rejected Viktor Krum at the Yule Ball. Why Dobby delayed me when I was leaving the Gryffindor common room. Why Blaise Zabini convinced Ginny I had stood her up. Oh, it was all very clever. And the best part was that everyone I talked to thought they had done what they’d done in order to _thwart_ your evil plans. When of course, in reality, _none of them had the slightest idea what your real evil plan was_.”

Harry held Tom’s gaze, green eyes burning, and Tom briefly–very briefly–entertained the idea of leaning over the library table and kissing him.

But of course, that wouldn’t be following the plan.

Instead, Tom leaned back coolly, crossed his arms–to let Harry think he was on the defensive–and did his best to staunch the fondness creeping into his voice when he said, not untruthfully, “I’m impressed.”

“Good,” said Harry. “Be very impressed. And then start shopping around for mind healers to see over Christmas after I turn your last week of classes into a very faithful recreation of Azkaban.”

Tom gazed at him, measuring his sincerity. “Do you not think my actions were the least bit justified? Only one month ago, you did a rather spectacular job of ending my relationship with Susan Bones.”

“That was to protect her.”

“Really? And Ginny didn’t need any protecting from you?”

Harry’s eyes flashed. “You don’t get it all. Susan meant nothing to you. But to me, Ginny was–Ginny was–” He seemed to cast about for words, then shut his eyes. In a very quiet voice, he said, “I cared about her.”

With delicate precision, Tom flinched.

It was no more than the subtlest contraction of the eyes and mouth. Nothing a normal person would pay any attention to. But of course, there would be no need for plans behind plans had Harry been by any definition normal.

Every performer has a favorite audience.

“What?” demanded Harry.

Tom schooled his features into deliberate neutrality.

“Don’t pretend,” said Harry. “I know you have something to say. Spit it out.”

Tom opened his mouth a crack. Shut it.

Harry raised his wand. “Talk.”

Tom let his eyes drift to a shelf of books, and affected a forced detachment. “I forget sometimes, that’s all.” He offered Harry the ghost of a smile. “What it’s like for the rest of you.”

“What are you talking about?”

Tom leveled him with a long, searching look. When he spoke, his voice was deathly quiet. “Having attachments.”

Harry went still. For a long moment, it was just the two of them at their dusty little table.

“That’s a rubbish excuse,” said Harry finally.

“It’s not an excuse.”

Harry said nothing.

Tom watched, assessing, as Harry slumped back into his chair and stared up at the ceiling. It was a long time until he spoke again.

“You’re probably not even capable of getting it,” said Harry. “But when I say I cared about her, I really mean it. It’s like, you look at a person, and you want to be the shield that stands between them and anything bad that could ever hurt them. That’s... That probably sounds silly. Especially to you. But that’s really what it feels like.”

He looked at Tom helplessly.

“I’m sorry,” said Tom.

Harry froze. “…You’re not.”

“You can choose to believe me or not.”

“You’re not.”

Tom turned away. Harry fell silent. In his peripheral vision, Tom caught Harry watching him, every so often, his expression unreadable.

After a while, Harry said, “You know, I didn’t even get to break up with her. I caught her cheating, and I didn’t get to break up. We were just… over. She’s already moved on. I was one option out of twenty to her, while she’s probably the only girl who’ll ever look at me twice. God. It sounds even more pathetic when I say it out loud.”

Tom reached out a hand and laid it on top of Harry’s. Harry laughed a manic, are-we-really-doing-this kind of laugh. Tom tuned his smile to reassuring.

“I’d probably take her back, you know,” said Harry. “If she ever asked. Which she won’t. Because she’s dating Viktor Krum now, and she’s probably having the time of her life snogging him this very moment. While all I do is sit in the library with my worst enemy and wallow in my own self-pity.”

Harry looked ill. Tom’s pulse picked up.

“Well,” said Tom carefully. “We could change that.”

Harry laughed. “Nothing can change this.”

“Are you sure?” said Tom. He leaned in, his eyes tracking every curve, every line of Harry’s face. Memorizing it.

“Er, hello?” said Harry. “What are you doing?”

Tom cupped a hand over Harry’s jaw. Tilted it.

“Oh,” said Harry.

Tom pulled him closer, until their lips were barely grazing.

“Forget my question,” said Harry.

Then they were kissing.

* * *

When they finally broke apart, falling back to their respective sides of the little table, Tom’s heart was beating wildly, and it took all his self-control to keep a giddy smile from his face. He sought out Harry’s eyes, because after what they’d just shared, Tom wanted to share this moment too–

But Harry’s face was cool, expressionless.

Tom froze.

“How would you feel,” began Harry lightly, dangerously, in the same tone Tom had recognized earlier that evening. One he realized, belatedly, that Harry had learned from him. “If someone manipulated you into emotional vulnerability in order to take advantage of you romantically?”

Tom didn’t breathe. A dozen denials flashed through his mind, but in the end, he settled for something close to the truth.

“I suppose I’d feel flattered,” said Tom. “That someone desired me intensely enough to go to such lengths.”

Harry’s expression remained blank a moment longer. Then he broke into a warm smile, and all Tom could think was _it could not possibly have been that easy_.

“That’s good,” said Harry. He stood up and brushed off his robes. Then he met Tom’s eyes, still wearing that warm smile, and something was wrong, wrong, wrong, definitely wrong–“That’s really good. Because I was only pretending to date Ginny Weasley.”

Then he winked, and walked away.

* * *

Tom Riddle sat in the library for a long time, thinking about poetic justice, and what it feels like to fall in love.

**Author's Note:**

> See title.


End file.
